


Culinary Dissonance

by SoulJelly



Series: Notes From a Voyage [1]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Food, Gen, Humor, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24100180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulJelly/pseuds/SoulJelly
Summary: Space rations are bad, but alien cuisine might not be much better.
Series: Notes From a Voyage [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738837
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	Culinary Dissonance

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt 'Staple foods'.
> 
> I generated a prompt bingo card, just for fun, and got an interesting mix of tropes/prompts to work with. The aim of the game is to get bingo with twenty new B7 fics, hopefully of a passable quality. Check the whole card on my DW [here](https://souljelly.dreamwidth.org/4687.html)! I'm always down for chatter and commentary on how to interpret the remaining prompts.

The grey slop curdled unpleasantly. The crew of the Liberator, bar one, eyed their bowls with a grimace.

"Well, as they used to say on Earth, bon appetit," said Blake, spooning the food into his mouth without a second thought. It took a moment for the absence of clinking cutlery to register. He looked up, swallowed and took in the faces of his crewmates. "No one else hungry?"

Avon's glare could have cut glass, even more so than usual. Slowly and deliberately he dipped his spoon, then held it high and angled it so that the grey substance peeled away and returned to the bowl with a wet, heavy sound. Jenna made a muffled noise of disgust.

Gan tried to be tactful. "It's just that we've been eating this... stuff... for a while now."

"Three weeks," said Avon, "and five days. To be precise."

"Maybe let someone else do the cooking," said Jenna. It wasn't a suggestion.

Cally and Vila followed the exchange with the air of two people observing a tennis match. Blake ate another spoonful and knocked it back with water. "You're welcome to try," he said, "but as I keep telling you, this is all we have left in the stores. Our supplies are dangerously low. I know it's not much to look at it, but it's incredibly nutritionally dense. If it comes down to it we can survive on this for weeks, months, at a time."

A shudder rippled around the room.

"Good news, though," Blake continued, "if I'm correct, we're not too far from the next habitable planet, are we Jenna?"

"He's right. It's a matter of hours until we reach Ivis 4. Believe me, if it was longer I'd be kicking up much more of a fuss."

Vila's stomach growled audibly and he pushed his bowl away to press his forehead against the tabletop. "You're telling me my next hope of a decent meal is hours away? What if there's no food there? Or what if there's no one around to cook for us?"

"Funny you should say that," said Blake, raising an eyebrow. "I believe part of the problem here is that someone got a little drunk and fancied themselves one too many late night meals the past few weeks."

Vila looked around. "Can't think who that was."

"Vila--" said Jenna.

"Okay, okay. I get a little hungry sometimes. Give a man a break."

"Hunger is going to be the least of your worries if we aren't able to stock up our food supplies soon," said Avon. His mouth was set in a thin line and Vila wilted under his gaze. He cast about but the others made no move to help him, all of them wearing expressions terrifyingly similar to Avon.

All except for Blake, who reached for Gan's untouched bowl.

\--

Ivis 4 was refreshingly sunny. The air was a little thinner than they were used to but their light-headedness soon faded. Blake and Avon drew their guns, Cally peered out at the distant horizon and Vila walked over to the nearest clump of foliage.

"Green things!" Vila said, pulling off a leaf. "Remember those? Salads, apples, mint chocolate. We used to eat those things, once."

Cally approached him. "I should hope you aren't about to consume untested plantlife, raw, from the surface of an alien planet."

Villa dropped the leaf.

"No, no," said Avon. "Do as you like. Don't let us stop you."

"Avon," Cally warned him. He quirked his lip and turned away, then dropped into a battle stance as rock crumbled from a nearby cliff face.

When the planet's inhabitants bore down on them, they aimed their guns with a weary sense of habit.

\--

"So you're not Federation?"

"Absolutely not," said Blake. "We mean you no harm. We know this sector is largely untouched by Federation rule and that's why we're here. We're allies, not enemies."

The woman before him nodded slowly, her dark eyes scanning her prisoners as though she could read the truth in the lines of their faces. She was tan, petite, and her head was completely shaved but for a long braid of dark hair. Her power was evident in her sweeping robes and the way her cohort of guards bowed in deference to her.

"Yahn," she said. The guard snapped to attention.

"Lady Iana?"

"Release them." At the clink of falling chains she continued. ""There is, of course, no sense in us turning down allies. Forgive our caution, and forgive us that we won't be returning your weapons until you leave here. Needs must, you know."

"Not at all," said Blake. "You do well to be cautious. We would be happy to negotiate terms of an alliance with you, and perhaps even--"

There was a loud, rumbling sound.

Vila cowed beneath the glares of his crewmates and the stares of thirty armed aliens. "Sorry," he said. "We skipped lunch."

Iana's face broke into a wide smile.

"You only need to have said so! We would be happy to show you the hospitality of Ivis 4."

Cally and Blake walked ahead, deep in conversation with Iana about planetary customs and spaceship specifications and interstellar flight times, which left Vila to fall into step with Avon. Avon looked around the stronghold with keen interest, taking in the spiralling stone buildings, no doubt analysing every structural weakness, planning escape routes should things go awry. Vila was practically bouncing on his heels.

"Well, aren't you excited? We've finally found a nice planet. It's got it all - pretty women, beautiful architecture and, oh yes, we're about to have the best meal we've had in weeks! Surely that's got to make even you smile, Avon?"

"Yes, it sounds rather nice, doesn't it," said Avon, deadpan. "If only you would stop talking, it would be perfect."

Vila muttered something under his breath about hoping Avon didn't get any dessert.

\--

"I-- Uh-- That is to say... What is it?"

For the second time that day the crew of the Liberator stared into their bowls. It was Vila who had asked the question; he took a utensil and pushed the contents around. Pungent steam rose up from the thick, moss-coloured stew. Pieces of something coarse and gristly floated alongside root vegetables. Vila fished one of these out and took a tentative bite. It tasted like charcoal.

"Koodoo broth," the waiter said, "A staple food of our home planet. No meal is complete without it."

Cally's expression was solemn as she bravely took a mouthful. Telepaths didn't emote well as a general rule, but Vila knew the look of someone who was screaming internally when he saw it. After all, it was something he himself practiced on a regular basis.

She caught his eye. We don't want to offend them, she projected. You should eat.

Beside her Avon had clearly had the same thought and was taking slow, measured sips of broth. When he glanced at Vila, his gaze was stony as ever. Vila tried again and gagged; it was like everything in the meal had been cooked to within an inch of its life, and then some. It tasted simultaneously of ash and dirt.

"The vegetation on this planet is largely poisonous until cooked," said Iana, nodding to the waiter before tucking into her own bowl with relish. "I suppose that, way back, our people had similar digestive systems to those on Earth - we were an offshoot from Earth colonies, after all - but our digestive systems and even our teeth have evolved to reflect Ivis 4's unique culinary landscape. I couldn't help noticing your incisors are much more pronounced than ours." She smiled, tapping a finger to one of her own small, blunt teeth.

"It would seem so," said Cally. "Thank you so much for your hospitality. We were running low on rations on our own ship, so we're grateful to be able to share your meal with you."

"It's no problem at all."

Even Blake was struggling to consume his stew, remaining silent as he made a valiant effort at the first few mouthfuls. Someone offered him wine and he gulped down half a glass gratefully.

"Thank you," he repeated. "It's fascinating, isn't it, how humanoid species look so similar, and yet..."

"Those differences are so superficial," finished Iana. "So many different internal workings." She turned once more to Cally. "So, I heard someone mention earlier that you're from Auron. What's it like there?"

The meal continued like this for some time. Four painful courses and much wine later, the crew felt worse than they had when they started. There were negotiations to talk through, but Blake insisted they wouldn't impose on Iana and her people any longer than was necessary, and would return to their crewmates on the ship to sleep before starting talks in earnest tomorrow. Avon for one was gratified to see that even he was struggling to keep a smile on his face.

"Before you leave, do let us prepare some food to take back with you. My father has a book of family recipes that I could upload to your database. In fact--" She held up a hand "--Wait right there and I'll gather them for you." She indicated to the waiters that they should begin to prepare boxes of food for their visitors, and the table was cleared in a flurry of noise.

"I don't know about all of you," said Vila, as the crew bent close to hear him, "but I'm looking forward to getting back to the Liberator and kicking back with a nice bowl of nutritionally dense gruel."

Avon just sighed.


End file.
